


Scratching an Itch

by largoindminor



Series: wincest love week 2015 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fuck Or Die, Kinda, M/M, Sex Curse, because there's a curse so to be safe, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/largoindminor/pseuds/largoindminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sam and dean are hit by some kind of curse, they feel awful but find it abates a little whenever they touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratching an Itch

**Author's Note:**

> wincest love week day 4

It’s clear on the drive back to the motel that _something’s_ wrong.Everything else is, well, less clear.

Sam’s hunched in the passenger seat, body twisted away form Dean with his head propped against the window.

“Dean. What’s happening?” His voice is strained and breathy in a way that makes Dean’s already flushed body feel a hundred times hotter.

“Dude, I got no idea, but that witch hit us with something powerful before she ditched us,” god, his ears are ringing with every pump of blood through his veins, everything sounds strange, “you didn’t happen to hear what she said?” There’s a weird twitchy feeling in his gut. There’s a weird twitchy feeling _everywhere,_ and it’s a blessing to see the motel sign not to far down the road because driving’s becoming more difficult by the minute.

“Something, ah…” Sam makes a noise like he’s in pain, “something about _mort_ _em,_ maybe? An, ah,” he sucks in a sharp breath, “and anima? Animi? It wasn’t clear but, uh, based on what I know of Latin, it doesn’t sound too good.”

Dean agrees, but doesn’t speak, can’t open his mouth or the scream of (what? Pain? No, frustration?) that he’s been holding in will claw it’s way out of his chest. He parks the car and they make their way into the hotel room as quickly as possible.

“Let me check you out,” Dean says immediately, because there had been a bit of a fight and regardless of what else was going on with their bodies, Sam had been thrown across the room and Dean needed to make sure he was alright.

“I’m fine,” Sam practically yells, “except for this, this _whatever,_ god, I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.

Dean’s in no state to think rationally but making sure Sam is ok is more instinct than anything else and he manhandles him to the edge of the bed and pushes him down to sit.

“Holy shit, Dean. Did you.. did you feel that?”

And hell yes, he did, there was almost a spark in his fingertips as soon as he touched Sam, but it was overpowered entirely by how much the _other_ weird feelings abated. His head cleared for a second, skin cooled, it was almost like when they made contact they started to win out over the curse.

“Touch me again?” Sam says, and damn, Dean knows Sam’s saying it to test a theory but why does it have to sound do fucking suggestive? He places a hand on Sam’s shoulder and feels it again, a little spark and then, a little bit of calm.

“Well Sam if I can just keep my hand here til we figure this thing out we’ll be just f-” before he can even finish the sarcasm laced sentence, it’s back, crawling under his skin and burning, like before, _shit_ ,it looks like the contact only provides temporary relief.

Sam reaches up and grabs his hand, for comfort or to test another theory, Dean’s not sure, but it’s there, that spark, stronger now and his insides start to settle down again. They just stand there looking at each other, and it lasts longer than before, a few minutes at least, before that squirmy spasmy feeling starts to return.

“Take your clothes off,” Sam says and lets go of Dean to lift his shirt over his head. Dean’s momentarily paralyzed with shock at what Sam just said and what he’s pretty sure is about to happen, but the discomfort becomes so overwhelming so quickly after breaking the contact that he’s willing to try literally _anything_ to make it go away, even a little. Sam’s already stripped down to his boxers by the time Dean shakes himself back into reality and starts removing his shirt. Once he’s down to his shorts as well, Sam grabs and pulls hard, Dean stumbles onto the bed, almost right on top of him.

The relief (and pleasure?) is immediate, like soothing balm over sunburned flesh and they both let out a sigh of relief. They’re pressed together from the shoulders down and with the effects of the curse almost fully abated, Dean notices for the first time that it doesn’t exactly go away _everywhere_. Fuck.

Sam must’ve noticed at the same time. “Uh, Dean? Are you… ?”

“Hard enough to hammer nails? Why yes Sam I am,” _and I’m so happy to be having this conversation on a bed in my underwear with my brother,_ he doesn’t say.

“Yeah, uh. Right. Me too.” No kidding. Dean’s caught sight of Sam’s dick before, obviously, but never like this, making a sundial out of his underwear in the middle of a sunlit room.

“No shit,” like he could somehow not notice that monster cock, “The fuck, Sam?”

Sam groans and puts a hand over his face, “ _Mort”_ he mumbles into his palm, then louder, “it was a fucking sex spell, Dean. Creepy witch viagra. _Shit,_ uh, I know when we need to break it but, I don’t think, I don’t think either one of us is going to be able to leave this room to gather it. We could call-”

“No! Not calling _anyone_ about this. _Ever.”_

“Uh, ok, what do you suggest then? Because I can already feel it coming back and there’s no other way to-”

Sam stops talking abruptly, because he knows, they both know, there _is_ one other way.

There’s some compromising that happens over the next few minutes. Or arguing, maybe, and they both switch sides of the argument back and forth a few times til it’s hard to know who’s supposed to be for or against at any given time, but as those minutes tick down, the discomfort returns, slowly but more pronounced despite the _almost_ complete contact they’ve got going on.

“Just like scratching each other’s backs.” one of them says, and that seals it, no matter how little sense it makes.

“How?” Sam asks and Dean wants to yell back at him _I don’t know I never fucked my brother before_ but instead some kind of instinct takes over his words and actions and he surprises even himself.

“On your back, knees bent. Here,” he hands Sam a pillow, “Put this under your, uh, your butt.”

Sam trusts him implicitly, or maybe he’s just s desperate for this to be over he’d follow _anyone’s_ orders, who knows. He scoots out of his shorts and lays back.

“Shit,” Dean says, “Uh, no lube.” and Sam’s body visibly tenses when he says it. Immediately his runs a soothing hand down Sam’s thigh, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ll- I’ll think of…”

Sam yelps when Dean’s mouth latches over his hole, and something about the sound makes Dean shiver in pleasure. It’s weird, so fucking weird, he’s _cursed_ and this is _Sam_ and he’s eating Sam’s _ass_ , but fuck it’s also the hottest thing he’s ever done. Dean’s never done this before but it ain’t rocket science, and from the noises Sam’s making he’s doing damn good for his first time. He flattens his tongue and swipes it up slowly, flicking it just a little before swiping it back down, does this for a while until everything’s slick and wet like he wants it, but Sam’s still so tight. He bring a finger up to his mouth, wets it in the pool of saliva that’s gathered, and slides it along side his tongue, not even pushing in yet, just dancing it lightly over Sam’s asshole, massaging the puckered skin in small circular motions.

“Fuck, Dean, put it _in_ me.” Sam cries out after a few more minutes of that.

Never one to deny Sam, Dean slides his finger in to the second knuckle, feels Sam’s asshole clench and flutter around him.

“Dean, _Dean_ ,” Sam’s whining, “oh shit. How. Sparks. Never felt like. Oh _god.”_ Sam’s pretty incoherent and either the curse is helping them along or Dean’s better at this that he thought he’s be, because Sam seems to be on some next level plane of ecstasy and he feels loose and slick enough for Dean to fuck, after just the one finger.

“Fuck Dean. You gotta. Fuck me. Now.” Sounds like Sam agrees.

It’s fireworks. It’s fucking lightning bolts behind his eyes when he slides into Sam’s spit slick hole. _Sam’s_ Dean repeats in his head, but there’s no awkwardness to it, _just scratching an itch, right?_ The silky drag of Sam’s body around him is electric, and Sam’s mutterings of _sparks_ earlier makes sense, because it almost feels like there’s a current running through him, running through both of them, thrumming with energy and throwing off sparks with each movement.

Dean doesn’t think to wrap his hand around Sam’s cock, it doesn’t even occur to him because his minds so preoccupied with how good it feels, but when Dean lays all the way down and presses them close together it’s hard and leaking between them and he feels Sam’s precome smear into the hairs on his belly with every thrust.

They hadn’t kissed, wasn’t something that’s necessary to break the curse after all, but Sam’s lips are so close and so pink Dean can’t help but dip down for a taste. His mouth is just as hot as the rest of him, just as silken and Dean wonders how it would feel wrapped around his dick ( _no we don’t do this though)._ Sam’s hands find their way to the back of Dean’s head and pull him close, deepening, sighing into it so gently and there’s a clenching feeling in Dean’s chest that he’s pretty sure has nothing at all to do with the curse.

“Dean,” Sam says into his mouth, “so good. Always knew you would be, _shit,_ so perfect.

“Always?” Dean pants out, confused, “what-?” but Sam interrupts him with another groan, so low and loud Dean swears he can feel the vibration of it in his dick. Sam’s fingers travel down to the flesh of Dean’s biceps and _dig in_.

“Dean, gonna come Dean, _oh shit_ I don’t- it feels- _fuck Dean,_ _comin-”_ Sam explodes between them, come coating the already damp space between their stomachs, ass squeezing Dean’s cock rhythmically and Dean tries to work Sam through it before chasing down his own orgasm but Sam _just keeps coming,_ muscles contract and relax and Sam’s so overstimulated but Dean pounds into him a few more times, bites down on Sam’s shoulder to muffle his scream of _Sam_ , and comes so hard his vision blacks out and his head spins even with his eyes closed.

They woke sometime later, both of them almost immediately falling asleep (passing out?) after. Dean’s flopped to Sam’s side and they’re not touching at all but he still feels fine, so it seems they managed to break the curse. He _wants_ to touch, though, wants to take Sam in his arms and hold him and never let him go, but this was just _scratching an itch,_ and Sam, _they_ , don’t need to do that.

Except.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Always?”

“Dean, look I just… I didn’t mean that I thought, I mean not really, I’d nev- I mean I wouldn’t, I _never_ thought about it…” So eloquent, that Sam, when he lies.

“Sam,” Dean interrupts him, sliding closer until hiss mouth it hovering over Sam’s ear, “what else did you _never_ think about?”


End file.
